Spacin' Out
by hepsybeth
Summary: this was all inspired by tumblr user @chokopoppo and I have them to think for even coming up with this. (I had a good part of this already written before I decided to post because I didn't want to just post and lose motivation lol) basically, hogarth and jim are half-brothers and they find each other and solve a mystery through outer space shenanigans (I'm bad at summaries!)
1. Don't Think Twice, It's All Right

This ( chokopoppo. tumblr post/ 144881550752/ derplefarglydoop-chokopoppo) is the post that started it all.

Also, there's a good chance that I'll come back and revise every once in a while because I feel like I don't give characters a great voice and I need to improve upon that.

And I'm gonna make a playlist for this thing.

Chapter title is from "Don't Think Twice (It's Alright)" by Bob Dylan

 **Don't Think Twice, It's Alright (Or Hogarth Wears Himself Out By Getting All Existential On His Rooftop)**

* * *

Three o'clock in the morning is an awful time to start thinking of one's place in the universe. However, Hogarth Hughes wasn't exactly the greatest example of a person who always made smart decisions.

It was a humid early June in Rockwell, which was about as unusual as it was uncomfortable. Coastal Maine summers tended to be warm and fairly dry, an annual climate characteristic that Hogarth hadn't appreciated until the water in the air began to cling to his skin like Saran Wrap. The heavy humidity had only been around for the past three days, so practically forever for the fifteen-year old. Blue blankets and striped bedsheets were piled unceremoniously on the floor beside the bed. Even with his bedroom window opened, the boy couldn't help but feel like he was melting into his mattress.

With more effort than it should have warranted, he turned on his side to where his clock was standing on his bedside. Its pale face seemed ominous in the dark and its seconds hand ticked by almost accusingly. 1:34, it said. 1:34 on a school night, it said knowingly, in his father's voice oddly enough.

1:34 on a Monday morning during the second to last week of junior year, Hog Hug, Hogarth thought.

And he couldn't sleep.

There was something strange in the air, he felt, and not just the annoying abundance of hot water. His body wasn't shaking with electric anticipation that came from completing yet another year of school. One year closer to whatever and wherever. It was something else. Not that he had any knowledge about whether or not his senses were "up to scratch", as his physics teacher liked to put it, but there was something he just couldn't place.

The house was silent enough, the occasional creaks of the house settling notwithstanding. His mom tended to sleep like the dead when she didn't have a night shift. Cynthia always fell asleep right after dinner and hardly ever woke up during the night. Also, he couldn't hear his step-dad messing around in the barn outside; he was probably long asleep too. This in mind, Hogarth sat up in his bed, shivering as he did so when a sudden cool breeze entered his room. It felt like nothing short of the fingers of Frosty the Snowman himself when he felt the air. Hogarth couldn't understand it. How could the breeze be so cold when every other time it felt like God's hot breath on him every waking hour.

Jeez, he couldn't stand the heat.

His sock-covered feet moved carefully on the ground, slipping every so often on the wooden floor. He reached his dresser and opened the bottom drawer. He pulled out a white t-shirt and tried to ignore the unsavory smell coming off of it. He pulled it on and, afterwards, checked to see if there were any cigarettes in his pockets. Satisfied that they were there, he grabbed his white All Stars and laced them on, double knotted.

Another breeze blew in and the sound of the wind whistled. The hoots of owls came and went and the light of the large half moon produced a muted glow over the foresty landscape.

Hogarth began to open his window further when his left pointer finger snagged on a raised piece of wood. Cursing at the blood that the splinter had formed, his eyes gazed momentarily at the nail holes left by a certain paranoid ginger who no longer worked for the government. Sighing at the memory of years ago, he exited legs first. Swinging his legs over the side of the window, he reached out for the nearest tree branch and he closed his window, using his foot, most of the way, leaving it a crack open. He didn't want to come back to a hot and stuffy room.

Muscle memory guided him, even though his legs were longer and his hands were wider than they were when he was kid. Adapting, he made his way up the tree and then up the side of the house where he knew a rooftop and an endless nighttime sky were waiting for him.

The roof used to be a gable one, but Dean- ever the creative force- wanted to try out one of many things, so the roof was flatter. His mother called it "slightly gambrel". Dean called it "innovation". Hogarth didn't know what to call it. All he knew was that he made a part of the roof flatter since he knew his new step-son had a penchant for stargazing. Built him a telescope and everything.

Finally there, he moved himself into the same position he was on his bed before he decided to pursue this little venture. Back to the burning roof, arms folded across his chest, blue eyes searching whatever was above him. His eyes stopped on the moon. It was bright and covered with craters.

He wondered if humans would ever make it there.

He wondered if anyone had ever made it there.

He remembered something, back before everything had happened, back before the Giant and endless days of government people knocking at his mother's door, pestering Hogarth again and again about any and all possible close encounters he had made since the Giants eventful visit to Rockwell. Heck, even back before he skipped the third grade and dealt with getting pounded day in and day out.

Back then, he had the crazy idea that they weren't alone in the universe. Now, obviously, he knows that he was right, but back then, it was more speculation. His was never a particularly religious family- they just stepped inside the local church during Easter and Christmas and everyone said grace at dinner- and his mom sometimes entertained even his most strange beliefs. So, when he asked if there really were aliens out there, proof be damned, his mom replied with, "Well if God created the world and all that's in it, there's no reason he couldn't have tried his hand at life a few more times" and that satisfied a seven year old Hogarth just fine.

Hogarth pulled out cigarette and used his lighter to set the tip aflame. Breathing in the smoke and blowing it out, he watched as the wisps of smoke appeared to reflect the dim moonlight.

It was the second to last week of school, the second to last week of him being a junior in high school. One year closer to a world of even more uncertainty than one of a sleepy town that had a close encounter with a giant metal man. And he hadn't a clue what he wanted to do in his life.

Sure, he could go for a trade or work in service like his mom. Or do whatever it was the hell it was that Dean did.

The thing was, he didn't want to find himself thirty years in a profession that made him not want to wake up in the morning, something Calvin O'Keeffe in his Woodworking class said was what his dad is going through. Hogarth also didn't see himself as a "people-person" like his mom was, able to pull a smile and a hearty tip from even the most stoic of customers. Lastly, while Hogarth had a creative bone or two in his body, he was pretty sure that illustrators were a dime a dozen and he knew for a fact that Dean had to be doing something on the side in order to provide for them. Not that he had any idea what it was. But Hogarth was more than certain that sculptures of two-headed dragons, among other things, didn't always sell that well. His line of work couldn't possibly be stable all on its own, but what did he know?

And to hell with working for the government. He overheard it being suggested to his mom by men in black suits and black fedoras when no one knew he was eavesdropping.

He imagined himself in the hands of the Giant as he flew through the air. Forget about needing to find a job here in the real world. Forget about silly stuff like needing to breathe oxygen. They'd soar past the stratosphere, past the troposphere. They'd be surrounded by stars and head for the moon.

"Look out your window and I'll be gone," Hogarth muttered to himself as he watched the stars twinkle above. He silently decided to stay up here until he saw the sun rise. He figured he could sleep in class. He got all As anyway.

* * *

"Hogarth?"

"..."

"Hogarth?"

"..."

"C'mon, Hogarth. This paper ain't gonna write itself."

Hogarth blinked open his eyes and his eyes adjusted to the harsh yellow light of the cafeteria. The jarring sound of high school chatter, a sound he'd somehow been able to tune out by just simply closing his eyes, attacked his ears all at once. In front of him, he saw the bespectacled face of Kimo Pelekai, his friend since freshman year. The boy sat across from him at the lunch table the two were sitting at. His large ears stuck out and his mouth was open, as if he was about to say something again. He was from Hawai'i and, when his dad got a job offer on the mainland, had transferred to Rockwell's own Anderson S. Stanfield High School, an establishment lovingly nicknamed ASS by the local youth. The school had the nickname coming, in Hogarth's opinion.

Kimo was an interesting character, second only to Hogarth in interest in space. But where Hogarth enjoyed art and spent a lot of his time sketching out various things in his imagination, Kimo was more interested in science and at any given afternoon, you could hear the sound of him tinkering away in his family's garage. Additionally, once you got Kimo going on a certain subject, he wouldn't stop chattering about it for hours. So, while Hogarth couldn't pinpoint the exact moment his first year of high school when they became friends, it was no surprise to anyone that they would become almost inseparable.

Hell, the guy even skipped a grade too.

Oddballs attract oddballs, he figured.

"Aw, cool it, Kimo," Hogarth said, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Blinking some more, he reached his fingers behind his neck and started scratching there. "You know I use lunch to sleep."

"Uh, no," replied Kimo, speaking around the food in his mouth. Corn, probably. "Lunch is for eatin'. Plus, I know this already. You prob'ly stayed up all night stargazin' and gettin' your head goin' 100 miles an hour. But that doesn't matter. We've got this." Seemingly out of nowhere, or maybe Hogarth was just tired, the boy pulled out a paper. A paper covered in words, words that meant something, obviously. He was just too tired to read what it said.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Rules for the final paper," answered Kimo. He wiped the table with the sleeve of his jacket before placing the paper down, right side up facing Hogarth. "The instructions and guidelines about what ideas are allowed."

"Oh," was Hogarth's response. The final science paper of junior year. He remembered his science teacher, Dr. Shelnutt, talking about it in class. In the process of Kimo and Hogarth graduating to the eleventh grade, the school had given Dr. Shelnutt reign over the sophomore and junior physical science classes, so the boys had him two years in a row. Thing is, it was a sort of catch 22. The two greatly enjoyed the teacher's company and would frequently talk to him about concepts outside of class, but the teacher also had the idea that the boys were headed for greatness, a belief that had them being called on in class all the time, despite the raised hands of other students. Hogarth could never get away with sleeping in that class, the first class of the day. Dr. Shelnutt wanted to "Push them to their limits" as he liked to say. Hogarth didn't care for the sentiment. Just because he did the stupid homework didn't mean he wanted to be teacher's pet.

Sure, talking to the man all the time about this and that sure didn't help, but still.

"Well," Hogarth yawned. "You got an idea?" He remembered that they were allowed to be in groups of two or three for the project.

"I'm not really sure. Maybe about the solar eclipse in July." Kimo started peeling his orange while he explained. "Remember that?"

"Yeah, I remember," Hogarth responded. "The one in July." He smiled as he stirred his mashed potatoes around in his tray with his plastic spoon. "Won't be for another sixty years, man."

"Bitchin'", said Kimo while Hogarth nodded in agreement.

"How long does it have to be," Hogarth asked, stifling a yawn. "I don't remember what he said about it, but I hope it's not that much."

"Uh," Kimo pushed his glasses up his nose while he looked over the paper. His fingers ran down the page searching for where the answer was located. "Um, about ten pages?"

Hogarth's eyes widened in surprise. He ran his hand through his hair in distress. "How the hell are we gonna talk about a solar eclipse for ten whole pages?" Eyeing the paper, he grabbed for it. "Gimme that." He quickly scanned the paper saying where the ten-page rule was. "Ten pages, my ass," he muttered to himself.

"Well," Kimo drew out the word. "It's more like ten pages maximum. But!" he held out his hand when Hogarth opened his mouth in order to voice his complaints. "It's extra credit if we do the maximum. And you know how tough of a grader Shelnutt is."

"Yeah," Hogarth said, frustration still thick in his voice. "He's like jerky. Tell me something I don't know." He used his fork to point at Kimo. "Still. We're not doing ten whole pages, Kimo." He moved to the left so he could avoid what seemed to be a flying apple poorly aimed at the trashcan behind him. "There's brown-nosing and then there's just plain obnoxious." On account of Kimo's glasses fogging up from the steam of his mashed potatoes, Hogarth couldn't discern what the other's face looked like. "Seven pages," he finished.

"Nine pages," Kimo countered.

"Eight pages," Hogarth said. "Else you're gonna need to find a new writing partner."

Kimo gave a little shurg and began shoveling green peas in his mouth.

"Hey, Kimo?"

"Yeah?" A few peas fell out of his mouth and Kimo cursed softly.

"You're always gonna be Shelnutt's favorite student, you know that right?" Hogarth might not notice everything, but he noticed a lot of things about Kimo. Namely about the way he presented himself. He was the new kid, always the new kid. Even when there were newer kids, Kimo always stuck out. He was the only kid who wasn't white in the entire school and there was no end in sight for all the mean-spirited comments that would eventually come his way. He wanted to, at the very least, be a good student, even a favorite one. Hogarth remembered Kimo telling him that he didn't want to be remembered as the only Hawaiian kid who ever lived in Rockwell, however cool that might be. He wanted to be remembered for what he did and he wanted people to like him, not just the Hughes-McCoppin household. So, whenever Kimo was able to pull a smile or a compliment out of Dr. Shelnutt, it was an accomplishment he never took lightly.

Kimo shrugged as a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, ok. Now, back to the solar eclipse. It's in a little over a month and we're gonna need some way to view even, after the paper."

"Dean'll fix me up something," Hogarth said, referencing his step-dad. "He's more an arts and crafts guy, but he did make me that telescope that one time, so I'm sure it's right up his alley one way or another."

"We could use arts and crafts," Kimo said thoughtfully. "Imagine how cool it'd be if we had a visual."

"You wanna present it to the class, huh," Hogarth said, not really asking.

"I absolutely wanna present it to the class."

"Gosh, Kimo. You know no one else is gonna do it in front of the class."

"Think about," Kimo said. "It'll stick out. I'll negotiate some extra credit points out of it."

As lunch went on, the two boys discussed how the project would be. What would be the ins and outs of the essay? What would be the best books to use for research? However, at the back of his mind, the same thoughts that had kept Hogarth awake in the morning found a way back to the front of his mind. So as the clock hand traveled closer to the time they would have to leave the cafeteria, and while Kimo was still going on about the logistics of a light box eclipse project, if that was the route they wanted to go on, Hogarth heard the words leave his mouth unprompted.

"Do you ever think about what you're gonna do in the future?"

"Yeah, sometimes," Kimo answered. "It's a loaded question though. Ask anyone here, but I don't know if anyone's gonna give you a straight answer to that."

"Figured," Hogarth answered.

"Probably something cool, though."

"What?"

"In the future, I'm probably gonna do something cool. Like be a spy or something. Take out villains." Kimo finger-gunned at Hogarth. "Get paid. Get chased by beautiful women."

"Shut up, Kimo," Hogarth laughed.

"But honestly, we've got another year to figure that out." And with that, Kimo stood up and picked up his lunch tray. "And you'll probably do some cool stuff too. Not as cool as me, but near there."

Hogarth rolled his eyes in response and followed Kimo to the back of the cafeteria to throw away his trash. Maybe he was right. There was nothing to worry about.


	2. I've Got A Rocket In My Pocket

The song I use in the title is I Got A Rocket In My Pocket, by Jimmy Lloyd (1958). Basically, any song on or made before 1963 is fair game. This song was also already used in the movie, but a good song is worth listening to more than once!

Also, some notes:

• Royal Interstellar Academy (and Her Majesty's Navy) are obviously Navy in nature (pirates, sailors, etc.), but their "ships" are also spaceships, so they learn how to man a ship as well as learning how to "fly" a ship. The best of both worlds, I guess

• The RIA is 5 years. I assume that after the shit that happened at the end of Treasure Planet, a definite year passed in which they settled debts, bought a new place, the babies were born, and Jim studied to pass his entrance exams

• And I assume that Jim had three years of finishing highschool (this was just me trying to figure out the timelines and they reference highschool in the movie, so I went with it)

• Also, everything i know about the fucking military is from the fucking movies and wikipedia (poorly researched), so i'm sorry for any military people who might read this story, but get this: it's in space and the rules don't matter lmao

• Also also, idunno know shit about the navy and ranks and "ensign kate" is supposed to be her title according to the cancelled treasure planet 2 notes, but there's also the fact that they haven't graduated yet, so

• And a "specie" is just a space nickel

Anyway, Introducing Katherine and Jim

 **I've Got A Rocket In My Pocket (Or Graduation May Be More Trouble Than It's Worth)**

* * *

There were many times in his life when Jim Hawkins cursed the name of Katherine Blake.

He could remember like yesterday when he got admitted into the Royal Interstellar Academy. He remembered studying for hours, for weeks. He remembered traveling for miles on his solar surfer to get to the nearest library to borrow holo-books about the history of the Navy and of wars that the Royal Navy fought in (he didn't want to be absolutely clueless about what he was getting into). He remembered staying up into the early morning reading about mathematics and science and physics, things that he always held a slight interest to but now he had a reason to invest time into them. For the first time in his life he had a very discernable goal. He was well aware that the recommendation that Captain Amelia Doppler would only get him so far; he could walk in, attempt the mandatory test, and leave with a resounding failure proving anyone, anywhere, absolutely nothing.

That, and he didn't want to mess that up. Even if he decided to not pay attention to the judgments of other people, this was a goal he set for himself. He wanted this, needed this.

In fact, the one thing that Jim remembered the most was learning how prestigious and competitive the Royal Interstellar Academy was. Gishtila Ilimi Eniri Mula. Forward Is Our Bright Future. It was no surprise then that they only accepted the best and the brightest among their millions of applicants (a fact that astounded Jim until he learned that the Academy had hundreds of locations around the galaxy, the closest to him being Port Ivy. Even so, their pool of accepted applicants was so small. Only ten percent got in.)

From the beginning, he knew that even if he managed to squeeze in, and that was a big "if", he would be forced to live and work among people who never would have associated themselves with him before. They were rich kids with their private tutors and multiple homes and family vacations to the Pillars of Creation every cycle. Those were the types of people Jim couldn't stand, the types of people who wouldn't blink their eyes at spending in an entire afternoon what his mother used to make in one cycle.

He remembered thinking that if he made it in, dealing with them on the daily would just be nothing short of a necessary evil.

He remembered the day of the test and how he learned that stress can take several forms. There was the stress that he felt in his stomach as he flew to the test location on his solar surfer. It felt like a living thing, twisting and turning and reaching around inside him so much so that he felt nauseous. There was the stress that he felt in his chest as he stood in line waiting to get checked in, like a heavy cold ball making it hard for him to breathe, making him want to sink into the floor. There was the stress that he felt in his head once he sat down and started on his test, pulsing and making it difficult for him to focus.

Despite it all, stress had nothing on the determination of James Pleiades Hawkins and he made it into the pool of accepted applicants, and not even barely.

There was then the physical test and the congratulatory letter home. Jim remembered celebrating with his mother and friends, old and new, and awaiting the day when he could walk inside the doors of the prestigious institution on southern Montressor and start his new life.

And then he met Katherine Blake.

Katherine Blake and her uppity attitude and her no-strand-out-of-place buns and her obsession with always being top of the class and her posh accent and her annoying tendency to single out Jim for any and all of his mistakes with her know-it-all mocking voice.

To his chagrin (and, he assumed, to her never-ending delight), students at the Royal Interstellar Academy, and all of its branches, started early in having their students work in groups, groups which became permanent over the course of their education. It was done in order to force them to work with one another in everyday life, just like they would have to do when they were legitimate Sailors. These groups of twenty ate together, studied together, practiced together, and slept together. They would do this for the duration of their time at the Academy, a five year venture.

Five years of Katherine Blake was five years too many, but the five years weren't even complete yet. Which was why he and Katherine Blake were standing at attention in the office of Major Duun as he went through holograms of their records. Something about qualifications, Jim was thinking. Jim personally hoped that whatever they were called in for wouldn't take so long since he had skipped out on lunch while he was designing his latest invention.

Jim hadn't been in this room that often. It was sterile and white; the only color came through the windows that looked over the Mountains of Aelt, the marbled rock formation that surrounded the southern Montressin country of Jevo. They were formed millions of cycles ago, crystalline layers of yellow and red and green and purple. Whenever the sun rose and set, visible from in between those peaks, a vast array of colors would shine throughout the office. Jim was no archaeologist, but he knew it was a sight to behold.

Besides the window, not much else was in Major Duun's office. There was his desk, brown and simple. The floor was wooden, and so was his cabinet filled with records, both in the forms of paper and holos. No pictures of family decorated the walls or anything. It was an office and nothing more.

Even so, Jim thought, it somehow had more of a personality than Major Duun himself.

"As you know," the rough voice of Major Duun began. His lower two eyes looked up at Jim and, although he knew that the Major had no hidden ability to read minds, Jim quickly focused his thoughts at the situation at hand. Major Duun's short brown hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and third eye, plain glass with no additional gadgetry, stared straight ahead while his two lower eyes looked up and down the holograms around his desk. "You are both the top students of in this branch of the RIA." His voice rose and fell, emphasizing words at random. Even after five years, Jim wasn't sure if that was characteristic of all Ravods (natives of Ravod, the furthest planet from Montressor in their star system) or just him.

Jim felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips and glanced at Katherine Blake to see if there was any physical response from her.

Her brown face was impassive as her golden eyes stared straight ahead.

Jim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Typical, he thought. Doesn't even recognize a compliment when she hears one.

Unless, he continued, the idea of her sharing a top position is an insult to her.

He tried even harder not to smile.

"As is tradition, every student, prior to graduation, must complete one mission. Flying colors is the standard. I accept no less." He paused as if to make his point. "But," a proud to his voice, "That shouldn't be an issue with my finest students, yes?"

"No sir," replied Jim and Katherine in perfect sync.

"At Port Ivy, we look at a student's strong suits. Some students, from the beginning, are shown to have a calling for the medical field." With this, a hologram showing RIA graduates as medics appeared. With a hand motion, the Major moved it to the side and continued. "Some students learn over time that they have a knack for building, those creative types." A hologram with RIA graduates as engineers materialized. "Some students have a gift for communication. And so on and so forth." A few more holograms showed up in succession before he made a motion with his hands and they all vanished.

"In short, we tailor the mission for the student, to their strengths. Those who worked so hard for these past five years, the ones who didn't falter and didn't take the easy way out and give up, those students are part of what makes the Royal Interstellar Academy the reputable institution that it has been for the past five hundred years and what will make it continue to be."

In all the time that Jim had been a student here, if he had a specie for every time he heard Major Dunn sing the praises of this Academy, he'd be even richer than Captain Flint.

"Which brings me your mission." Major Dunn folded his fingers together on his desk and eyed the students standing in front of him. "Missions are built for two student teams, not twenty. Yours will be a retrieval." The Major leaned back in his chair and fiddled with some buttons on the wall. The lights in the office grew dim and the shutters slowly covered the window. Gradually, green lights began to fill the room creating a small model of the planet Montressor. The similarly green spaceport satellite Crescentia slowly orbited it. However, just as soon as it was there, the models shrunk in size and the more planets in their star system in various colors began to show up. In a few seconds' time, the green lights of Montressor and Crescentia became lost within the one of many spiral arms of the Rolouson Galaxy.

"This is the home of our civilization," the Major said as the holographic model of the galaxy spun in place. "Most of everything we know starts here. All our history, all our stories. Wars, peacetime, and the tumultuous times in between. And leaving the galaxy is no short task. But, that is in fact what I have in mind for the two of you."

The room was silent, enough so that Jim braved a question. "Permission to speak, sir?"

"Permission granted."

"This retrieval, like you said, is beyond our galaxy." He fiddled with his fingers, hands loosely clasped together behind him. "What is it that we'll be retrieving and how far away is the location exactly?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss the specifics that you will be retrieving," he replied. At Jim's poorly-disguised confused face, he elaborated. "Part of the reason for that decision is for you and Midshipman Blake to use critical thinking and observe your surroundings, as well as learn all you can from the clues we'll give you later today. As for where you're going," the Major flicked his wrist and the hologram expanded further like an unfurling map until finally, it stopped as another spiral galaxy came into view. Shining with pulsing red lights, Jim noted the astronomical distances between the two galaxies. He opened up his mouth in order to ask for another question, but Katherine Blake beat him to it.

"Permission to speak, sir?"

"Permission granted."

"Is there a specific time frame in which this mission should be completed," she started, her sharp accent already working on Jim's nerves. "From what I can discern, this galaxy is more than a fair distance from the Rolouson Galaxy. And, for that matter, what sort of transport would get us there to begin with?"

"The mission, like all missions, should be completed before graduation. In some cases, a day or so later. The Milky Way Galaxy, as the locals have come to call it, is approximately eight jump cycles from us. In regards to how you two will get there, I've arranged a Warsloop with a black hole engine. Completely safe, in case you were wondering, and has been used every now and again for various missions. And, as for the exact location of the retrieval sight," more gestures of his hand instructed the hologram to center on the Milky Way Galaxy and quickly zoom into one of its spirals. The flickering lights of stars, moons, and planets danced around the interior of the office, sparklings pinks and blues, twinkling yellows and greens. Once it was in full view, Jim observed the bright greens of apparent forestry and the deep blues of its vast oceans. Oceans seemed to cover the majority of the planet.

"Earth," stated the Major. "I believe the planet's natives have a sense of irony."

Jim gazed at the planet. There was so much water on the planet, more than he had ever seen on one. He wondered if the natives of the planet lived in the oceans. Where else would they be?

"The planet is located outside the Etherium and all that implies. The Milky Way Galaxy is largely uncharted, but this an academy bent on discovering the undiscovered. Therefore, it shouldn't be too dire of an issue."

After a few moments of the planet hologram rotating in place, the Major turned off the hologram. Eyes, back on his students, he spoke. "This is a difficult mission. Earth is a wild planet with a primitive species. Reports say that they have only recently gotten off the ground. Later tonight, you will be given your papers listing more of the specifics and you will embark on this journey tomorrow at the latest. Estimated time of arrival to Earth will be in less than a week's time. Good luck, and you are dismissed."

Jim and Katherine saluted the Major and exited the office in an orderly fashion.

Almost on cue, Jim's stomach growled not even a second after the door to the office clicked close. He leaned against the nearest wall and ran a hand through his brown hair, thankful that it hadn't happened inside the office. He could do without the embarrassment.

"So," he started. He turned to were Katherine was patting her orange hair down, as there was anything wrong with her bun. She glared at him, hazel eyes narrowed. "Earth, huh? You excited?"

"This is a serious assignment, Midshipman Hawkins," Katherine said. "We don't have any idea about what we're going to face."

"There ain't nothing you can tell me I don't already know, Katherine Blake," Jim said.

"And I wouldn't say that I'm excited," Katherine stated. "I'd say more cautiously optimistic."

"What?"

"It's a graduation mission, James. Not a vacation." Finished with whatever she was doing to fix her hair, Katherine straightened her back and gave Jim a disapproving look. "And you won't make it to Earth if you starve yourself to an early grave, James." And, with that, she walked down the hallway. Probably to practice sparring at the amphitheater or something.

"You do care," Jim called to her down the hall while he knew that she was still within range. One of Katherine's ears perked up and, all in one movement and without slowing her pace, turned on her heel and flashed him an off-color gesture and spun back, finally exiting the hallway.

Jim smirked. He walked in the other direction towards the stairs leading up to his dormitory, where he knew he had some snacks here and there. It was all a matter of finding them.

With his hand on the rail, he shook his head. "Damn you, Katherine Blake."

* * *

The next chapter's gonna be sort of a flashback, so stay tuned if you're reading this!


	3. I'm Gonna Make Believe

This is a flashback chapter, just to give a little background to Annie and the mysterious man

The song is: I'm Gonna Make Believe (1945, Frankie Carle)

 **I'm Gonna Make Believe (Or Annie Knocks A Spaceman Unconscious With Her Car)**

* * *

 _In 1947, Annie Lea Martel was twenty-three years old, a time she recalled feeling ever so claustrophobic._

 _Ever since the War ended two years ago, the world suddenly felt like a much more dangerous place, more so then when her parents were young, or even their parents. People started rationing their flour and sugar, but then they started growing gardens and Annie supposed it wouldn't be all bad. After all, the growing sprouts of tomatoes and peas surely symbolized life. But then, the boys in her neighborhood started leaving more and more. Pride and worry flavored the farewells and grief washed it all down when those fateful letters were sent back home. And every day and night, Annie and her mother prayed that Abel would come back home._

 _When her mother opened her front door to men who were sent to tell them about Abel's fate, Annie supposed that God couldn't answer the prayers of every scared mother and sister._

 _With no men in the family any longer, and her mom either unwilling or unable to handle the death of her only son, Annie found herself at twenty one juggling two jobs, then three. Sleep became worth more than gold; she would arrive home at six in the morning, greet her mother and kiss her cheek, change into the blue dress required for the grocery store, say goodbye to her mother and kiss her cheek, come back home at two, greet her mother and kiss her cheek, change into the yellow dress and apron required for the diner, say goodbye to her mother and kiss her cheek, and do the same again and again in a suffocating cycle._

 _Never much of a quiet girl to begin with, she found it easy-albeit, exhausting-dealing with customers of all types, whether at the grocery store, the diner, or the only cinema in all of Rockwell, the Rockwell Drive-In. There were the old grandmothers who asked her about her day in New England French (and, with all smiles, encouraged her to practice when they heard her own halting attempt). There were the teenagers from the local high school, all bright smiles and curled hair, red pimples and black eyes, loud and boastful and running from the premises when they hadn't the money to pay for a meal. There were the veterans of the war, young men with old eyes, giving her shaky grins and jumping at someone's car horn or the sounds of guns from the movie of the night. There were the older men who reeked of entitlement, trying, on more occasions than she could count, to touch her and grope her and follow her home. All these people, she had dealt with and all these people she had been able to talk to and work out issues with. She grew from the mousey greenhorn, who ran into customers and spilled drinks on herself, to the can-do expert who never forgot a face and could run with a tray-full of milkshakes. Between the early mornings to the late nights, from inside the small cinema or the cozy diner or the brightly-lit grocery store, she thought she had seen it all._

 _That is, until the rainy April day in 1943 when she accidentally ran her car into a man._

 _She had been singing The Andrews Sisters' "There's No Business (Like Show Business)" when the man had appeared suddenly. It was as if nothing was there and only a second later, he came into view. She hadn't noticed anyone walking into the middle of the road, and who would, dark as it was?_

 _Maybe I'm just that bad of a driver, Annie thought._

 _She slammed her foot on the break and jumped a few inches off her feet. Rolling down her window, she called out to the man. "Hello?" Turning her car off, she fumbled with her seat-belt, her heart pounding in her chest with panic._

 _The rain coming in from the window was already beginning to soak her to the skin and once she got her seat-belt off, she tried rolling the window back up to no avail._

 _"Damn this old car," she muttered. The wind blew her now wet brown hair into her mouth. She exited the vehicle, instantly regretful that she hadn't listened to her mother when she had told her to bring her raincoat with her because of this "feeling" she had. Boo for her, then._

 _"Are you alright?" she asked loudly, trying to find the man through the heavy torrent of rain. Then, she noticed a brown figure on the ground, that is a brown suit. She had nothing to compare it to other than, maybe, a winter coat perhaps. But what was someone doing wearing a winter coat in the middle of April?_

 _She crouched down to the man, the water from the puddles on the ground soaking through her shoes to her feet. She tried to ignore it the wet feeling. She shook the man's shoulder. "Hello? Gosh, I hit you bad didn't I? Typical, huh? Everyone tells me that I'm an awful driver and I go ahead and prove them right._

 _The man made no response, motionless on the ground._

 _"Of course, you can't hear me," Annie shouted over the rain. "But we're closer to my house than we are to town. I'll get you fixed up right away and we can get you to town in the morning. By then, it'll be light and perhaps you'll even be awake." She struggled to get a firm grip on one of the man's arm. He was really heavy and the coat wasn't helping in the slightest. "That sound dandy to you?"_

 _The man made no sound._

 _"It's alright. We'll get you warmed right up once I drive you home. You'll catch your death in this weather."_

 _After a ten minute or so struggle, Annie managed to drag and push the man into her mom's car. She settled him into the passenger seat and prayed that whatever injuries he sustained weren't life-threatening. It was too dark to tell if he was bleeding and she hadn't felt around his head or chest; she was just concentrated on getting him into the car and driving him safely home._

 _She drove back home carefully, not wanting to take the chance that she might hit someone else. Every other moment, she would glance to her right to make sure that the man was still there, that he was still breathing._

 _Eventually, she could make out her house from the lights of her car. She told the unconscious man that she would "be right back" and she ran towards the nearby shed. She opened the door and found what she was looking for, forgoing the use of some kind of light since she knew where everything was even with her eyes closed. She took what it was, a wheelbarrow, in her hands and ran back outside towards her car._

 _The man was still there and Annie told herself that she needed to stop thinking that he would disappear._

 _"It'll be quite snug," she told the man as she maneuvered him into the wheelbarrow. His rear and back sunk into the wheelbarrow while his legs, arms, and head fell out. Annie tucked his arms inside the wheelbarrow as best she could._

 _"This is the best way to," she said. talking more to herself as a sort of reassurance. "I couldn't carry you all the way to the house. You're much too heavy. This'll be much simpler."_

 _Easier said than done, she soon realized. The mud formed from the rain gathered under the wheels of the wheelbarrow and that, combined with the man's weight, made it a struggle still to push him towards the front door. And the rain was still relentless._

 _Still, she managed and it worked out in the end._

 _Dripping with water and mud, she entered the front door of her house and was greeted with the smell of corn chowder and baked beans._

 _"I'm home, ma!" she called. She rolled the man inside, telling herself she'll clean the floor when she had time. "Dinner smells swell!"_

 _"Annie!" came the raspy voice of her mother. The cold that had been going around was working against her voice. "Close the door before it starts raining inside, dear."_

 _"Will do," she replied. Nearly tripping over the wheelbarrow as she turned around, she reached for the door handle and pushed against the door with her side, the wind blowing very strongly against her. Once she got the door to close, she realized how cold and dirty she was._

 _"Oh," she mumbled, looking at her muddy legs and shoes and the state of the man in the wheelbarrow. "What a mess."_

 _And all she wanted to do was go to bed. She'd been working for hours._

 _But she still needed to care for the man, and there was the looming issue of her mother. Her mother would cause a panic and then feel inclined to call the authorities and there'd be even more of a mess to clean up, so it'd be best, Annie decided, if her mother knew nothing about the man in the muddy and wet brown winter coat._

 _"I'll be heading up," she said to her mother, who she knew was in the dining room, probably rereading one of the many newspapers around the house. "I'm soaked to the skin from all this rain."_

 _"Now, didn't I tell you to bring a raincoat along with you, Annie Lea?" her mother's voice came, all-knowing like a mother's voice tends to be._

 _"Yes, you did," Annie replied loudly, grunting as she tried to pull the man out the wheelbarrow. There was no way she could roll a wheelbarrow up the stairs and that's only leave a bigger mess for her to clean up. She wasn't worried about her mother hearing the sounds of her struggle. Over the past few years, her hearing started to worsen and sometimes Annie was required to yell something a few times for her mother to here._

 _It was her eyes, however, that were the problem here. The eyes of Ginette Mirabel Martel never missed much._

 _Annie prayed that luck was on her side that night and that her mother would keep her eyes on her newspapers._

 _""152 Killed by Tornado in Texas and Oklahoma,"" Ginette read from the headline from the Lewiston Evening Journal. She tsked loudly. Annie could imagine her shaking her head. "What is the world coming to?"_

 _"I have no idea," Annie replied. She couldn't' fathom what it would be like to experience a tornado. She'd dealt with blizzards and floods and seemingly neverending rain, but tornados seemed that much more frightening. The man's foot caught on a chair leg as she dragged him across the floor, knocking it down. Annie froze, irrationally worried even though she knew her mother wouldn't have heard anything._

 _"Terrible," her mother continued._

 _"Awful," Annie agreed._

 _As she dragged the man, she glanced at her mother every so often. They had reached the area where there was an opening in the wall that showed the inside of the dining room. Her mother's eyes stayed on the newspaper in front of her, but the silence of the room, save the rustling of the newspaper pages, was enough for Annie to hear her heart pound in her ear._

 _Eventually, she made it past the opening to the stairs and, while pulling the man up the stairs was difficult in its own way, it was nothing like dragging him in front of her mother. Bump by bump, she pulled the man up until they reached the hallway. The hall bathroom. Then the tub where she collapsed against it in sheer exhaustion._

 _"You're a piece of work, you know that?" She turned around and felt around for the latch to turn the tub water on. As the tub filled with warm water, she continued. "I'll wash your hair and your face. I hope that everything under that winter coat is clean because I'm not inclined to take away your decency. I don't even know you, but obligations still stand, you understand? I still hit you with my car."_

 _The man didn't answer, of course. Annie sighed loudly. "I'm gonna make believe that this is somehow, someway, the right thing to do."_

 _She got to work, finding a towel in the bathroom chest and grabbed a soap bar from the sink counter. She turned the water off, deciding it was filled enough. Then, she dunked the soap bar into the tub to get it sudsy and began working it through the man's mud-coated hair. Unsurprisingly, she discovered a hard bump on his head, the cause of all this hullaballoo._

 _Her mind went to a memory of Abel. Once when she was a girl and a lot more wild in nature, she had played outdoors with her older brother. It was at the seashore where there had been some rocks, but children are hardly ever concerned with potential danger when all they could think about was the ongoing game of the day. So, although it was terrifying when Abel fell headfirst on a rock and got a bump on his head ad he was unconscious for the rest of the day, he woke not a day later, with a blinding headache but awake all the same._

 _That memory gave Annie hope that everything was going to be alright._


	4. The End of the World

This fic won't be in chronological order because that's what artists do *jazz hands*

And, it's a Sarah chapter, because mystery man has a name and it's Jackass

The chapter title is from "The End of the World" by Skeeter Davis

 **The End Of The World (Or Sarah Deserved Better Than She Got)**

* * *

 _When Sarah Lloyd was sixteen, she left school to marry the dashing Leland Hawkins._

 _She was young, stubborn, and bright and she never wanted to leave school, but there was this shadow that followed her wherever she went. "Responsibility". The duty of putting others before oneself was how it was defined to her by her father. The forward-thinking-ness of doing the smart thing by marrying someone of a high standing was how it was defined to her by her mother. They were a lowly family, easily forgotten among the many other families of their class living on the Northern Prairie territories on Montressor. They didn't live on the exciting Southern islands near the planet's equator, where there was currently an intellectual boom, a Renaissance of sorts (not to mention the warm weather). They didn't live on the spectacular snow-covered mountaintops in the East where there was some exciting counterculture spreading, along with their strange music and flamboyant religious were just...here._

 _The Lloyds were simply farmers, farmers who had lived in the Northern Prairie territories as far back as anyone could remember. And as far back as Sarah could remember, she wanted to do something more than that._

 _But, the Lloyds were poor. Sustainable, yes. Would never go hungry, yes. But poor, nonetheless._

 _Sarah had things she wanted to do, away from the farm. She enjoyed cooking and dreamed of owning a restaurant. She liked reading and dreamed of going to a university. She liked drawing things and dreamed of developing magnificent buildings that would poke holes in the sky. She had so many dreams._

 _But as the second oldest child after Reginald (who had joined a merry band of circus performers three years back), she was expected to not shirk her "responsibility" like her no-good brother and secure a future for herself and, by extension, her family._

 _Leland Hawkins wasn't what anyone had in mind and, oh, how the Lloyds hated him._

 _He was born in the Northern Prairies, as was everyone else that Sarah knew, but he was always different. The Hawkins family always was, and their eccentricities were easily explained away by the fact that they lived more comfortably than many of the other people in the Prairies. He was loud, he was a menace. He would leave his home for months on end only to come back with different clothes and strange scars. He would speak of the rebellions happening off-planet to the farmers who wanted nothing to do with it. He would get into fights and get on people's nerves._

 _He was everything her parents didn't want in a husband for their daughter. Where they wanted sincere and respectable, he was brash and disreputable. Where they preferred diligence, he was lackadaisical. Where they wanted them to have a quiet life on the Northern Prairie, he wanted adventure and looked to the mountaintops._

 _They wanted Leland to be more like a Lloyd, and Sarah wanted anything but._

 _She was impulsive, she recalled. Entered school on a wintery day to announce that today was her last day, and she got married in the next month when the air was warmer and the plants were in dazzling bloom._

 _Sarah said her farewells to her parents, her friends, and her four younger siblings, and she and Leland left the Northern Prairies to the roaring hubs of the mountains to find a new life and a new purpose. Leland said he was tired of the war and Sarah said she was tired of the norm._

 _They build an inn where they housed guests and cooked, something Sarah delighted in. They met all sorts of people, learned all sorts of tales. They were flying high on the feeling of independence and worked to maintain it._

 _And everything was fine until it wasn't._

 _They were young and tried for children. Leland was from a small family, only one sister and two parents, but Sarah was from a larger one. She yearned for someone to look after like she had looked after her own younger siblings. Besides, it was normal for people their age to have children and start growing a family._

 _When Sarah was seventeen, she gave birth to Lenora Stella Hawkins. The sun was hot and the air was dry and as soon as she was capable, she called her parents to let them know. For a week, the Hawkinses watched in awe at the life they had created and joked about who she would take after._

 _They would never know, however, if Lenora's small nose would become pointed like Leland's or flat like Sarah's, or if her small ears would stick out like Leland's or not like Sarah's because she became sick before the week was through. She would cough throughout the night and cough throughout the day and despite all Sarah knew of caring for infants, it wasn't enough to keep her baby alive._

 _They buried her in a casket of flowers behind the inn and they held each other tight._

 _Leland searched for work away from the inn and every time it seemed further. He was good at nearly everything he put his mind to, but it was his temperament that was the issue. His temperament was like dust in your eye. If you continued looking forward, or even closed that eye, you would hardly notice there was a problem. But once you began looking around, here and there, the dust become irritating and it's all you can notice. It's all you can do to not shout in frustration._

 _It began to become clear that they were entirely different people. Sarah couldn't even conjure up a single reason why they had gotten together, save the abstract conclusion of "adventure". He fought in partisan groups at the outskirts of the war and knew of grander things and he didn't want to settle with the simple life of a farmer after all that action. Sarah was bored, as young adults usually were, and wanted to fulfill her parent's request in the most vexing way. But they didn't fit. Sarah had enough of adventure, but Leland kept on looking for more, as if there would be something better if only he searched in the right place._

 _The Benbow Inn (named after the distinguished Admiral John Benbow, a distant relative of the Lloyds), however, was booming. People came from far and wide to stay and eat at their inn, travelers from distant planets or just from the other side of Montressor. It certainly helped that the Benbow Inn was the only inn for miles around. And although it wasn't much, Sarah took great pride in it. She painted and carved, dusted and shined. She tried to see the best of the situation, even getting Leland to see things her way every once in a while._

 _When Sarah was eighteen, she gave birth to Edwin Orion Hawkins. The sky was dark, save for the bright lights of Crescentia and the lit candles throughout the room, and the air was cool. Her second child was blue and stillborn and Leland hugged her as she cried for hours and hours. He managed the inn while she was still healing._

 _They buried their son in a casket of flowers behind the inn next to his sister. Long after Leland went inside, Sarah sat outside on the bench overlooking the mounds of dirt, so desperately sad and unsure where to go from there._

 _The luck of the Hawkins couple began to sour._

 _Another inn was built nearby, bigger and grander than anything the Benbow Inn had to offer. They began losing all but the most loyal of customers. Granted, how loyal were customers if they'd only been there for a year? Leland traveled off world, coming back with different clothes and terrible scars. He would whimper during the night and fidget during the day. Sarah was always sad, the memories of happiness of moving to the mountains seeming like nothing more than a dream someone else had. She yearned for the children she thought she would never have and she yearned for the husband she thought she knew._

 _Leland became more distant and Sarah knew things were troubling him. Things off planet, things about the war. Things she knew next to nothing about because he wouldn't talk about them and hardly seemed inclined to open up to anyone about it unless he was holding a halfway empty bottle. But Sarah was young and did her end of the talking. She figured that she didn't need to help a grown man sort through his problems if he wasn't even going to meet her halfway, so she made plans to visit the Northern Prairie territories, needing to be close to people who wouldn't expect anything in return._

 _And if the Lloyds asked about the couple's relationship, Sarah danced around the question because she didn't need or want condescending 'I told you so's. She was in mourning and needed anything but scolding._

 _She wasn't planning on returning for another week until Leland appeared at the door of the Lloyd's household. His hair was combed and his ponytail was neatly tied behind his neck and, save for the scars he could do nothing about, he looked as dapper as could be. He wore his nicest coat and his nicest shoes and an unsure smile. At Sarah's unamused face, he apologized. He apologized for his distance, for his attitude, for his constant trips to stars knew where. He promised that he would get better, that he would open up, that he would end all correspondence with things related to the war. He promised to be there for her and he was so, so sorry that he wasn't before._

 _And Sarah was young and believed everything he said. She jumped in his arms and cried into his neck and he embraced her and wiped away her tears. Looking back, Sarah believed that he believed everything that he said. That he believed he was being genuine._

 _But he was Leland Hawkins and she should've known better._

 _When Sarah was nineteen, she gave birth to James Pleiades Hawkins. It was raining and the clouds were a light purple. During the next week, Leland and Sarah held their breaths in a cautious optimism, never leaving the boy's side (something easier to do when they didn't have such a large number of customers any longer). James would scream all hours of the day and night and Sarah couldn't understand how she ever got annoyed with her youngest sister's birth and the noisy days that followed because the screams and cries of her baby James was a beautiful sign that he was still alive._

 _And if she ever got annoyed, she would never admit it out loud._

 _He grew, as did their inn. The nearby inn was being investigated for rotten food and her previous customers came scrambling back to the cramped interior of the Benbow. Leland kept to his word and was engaged with all things at home and he adored his son._

 _James began to very clearly take after her, from her flat nose to her light blue eyes. He delighted in building things and learning about the world around him. But his humor and his smile? That was all Leland._

 _Much like Leland, he enjoyed telling stories. His tales were as tall as the Etherium was wide, tales that would sometimes lead to disapproving letters written by his instructors from the schoolhouse he attended. Many of the stories involved pirates and he was always asking questions about his Great-great-great (deep breath) many-times-great uncle Admiral John Benbow, who wasn't a pirate but still sailed the Etherium in search of adventure._

 _As a younger person, Sarah might've looked at the idea of adventure with excitement, much as her son did now. But adventure came at a price because when you wanted to be done with adventure, sometimes adventure wasn't done with you._

 _Adventure wasn't done with Leland._

 _The wars for and against the Federation still waged on and Leland found himself being roped back in. Was it his duty? Had he bitten off far more than he could chew? Did he have obligations to help those he had left behind._

 _Sarah didn't know because Sarah was young and family was far more important than anything going on so far away from Montressor you needed a ship to sail off and find out._

 _And they fought. They fought once they were sure James, or Jim as he had started calling himself, was out of hearing range. They threw words around. The Federation, he would say. Our home, she would say. The war would spread, he would say. Our family, she would say._

 _That funny word "responsibility" would show up more often than not and each interpretation of the word held merit, but neither party was willing to yield to the other._

 _Jim began to notice. How could he not? As quiet as they tried to make their arguments, words louder than the others would find Jim and he became worried. His stories became shorter and his voice became smaller. Leland became absorbed by his "responsibility" and his relationship with Jim began to dwindle further. He settled for a simple ruffling of Jim's hair when he used to spend actual time with him and Sarah hated him for it._

 _When Sarah was twenty-eight, she and Leland had the fight of their lives. She became full aware of the promises he couldn't keep and she cursed his name while he cursed hers right back. Responsibility, responsibility, responsibility. She despised the word. And one day, he simply left. Sarah sat at a table, sobbing into her hands while she heard the awful sounds of Jim's feet running down the stairs and out the door. She heard him scream Leland's name and her heart broke._

 _When Jim ran back inside, he searched the house, hoping, praying, that there was some clue left behind to answer why. Some note left behind to tell him something, to explain where he was going, when he was coming back. He didn't find anything._

 _"He didn't even say goodbye," Jim said, his eyes red and shiny with tears._

 _"I know," Sarah said._

 _"He left and didn't even say goodbye!" Jim said, louder this time while crying even more._

 _"I know," Sarah said._

 _And Jim held onto Sarah and Sarah held onto her nine-year-old son right back, his wet cheek pressed against her neck. Jim was so young, so very young, and Sarah wanted nothing more than to make it so this never happened._

 _But it did._

 _And Sarah was getting older and less naïve. And while she hoped that Leland would return, she decided that she would move on and she and her son would become the better for it._

 _And become the better for it, they did._

* * *

Next will be a Jim chapter because it has to be in order for the Hogarth chapter to make sense


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